


Occupational Hazards

by kaitatatertot



Series: Under the Tides [2]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: F/M, Lemon, Light Dom/sub, Smut, practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2288393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitatatertot/pseuds/kaitatatertot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after "Lighten Up Mr. DeWitt"<br/>In which you need some inspiration, and that man on the couch looks like the perfect subject.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupational Hazards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Babe_Chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babe_Chan/gifts), [Mothra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothra/gifts).



> I dedicate this to Babe_Chan cause they dedicated a wonderful Jack/reader and you should all go read it because Jack is a precious honeycomb.  
> And also Mothra because she's been so fabulous ((IM SORRY I WILL SEND YOU CHAPTER 2 TO BETA I PROMISE))  
> Ahah...ahah....ahahaha....  
> Welp Im on a writing kick.  
> And i should be updating most of my fics on Friday  
> ((except Constants and Variables for the fact that it needs a double update for anyone not into citrus-y goodness and Parallels because it still needs to be beta'd ))  
> So, in preparation, here is the start of the...  
> MEGA update.  
> Hope you enjoy.

Your fingers typed furiously against the typewriter keys as beads of sweat rolled down your forehead. The loud clacking of the hammer against the paper drowned out any other noises. You bite your tongue lightly as words flow from your mind to the keys, creating the perfect scene for your story.

_"He wrapped his arms around her waist and took the lead. The two of them slowly sashayed in a circle to the unheard music._

_'Just follow me' he smiled."_

Then, your hands begin to cramp as your once clear thoughts muddle together. You hesitate and freeze, the words stopping. You stare at the paper in front of you, reading it over and over. In a fit of rage, you slap your hands on the table with a loud grunt. You slump over and groan louder in frustration.

"Hey, (name), can you keep it down with the 'pissed at the world' grumbling?" A voice calls from the other end of the room. You flop your head to the side and stare at the man who has a guitar in his grasp.

"No Booker, I can't. My next deadline is in three days, and I'd be fine...IF IT WASN'T FOR THIS DAMN PART!" You flail agitatedly. Footsteps draw closer and you quickly snatch your page from the typewriter.

"Let me see." He commands, you shake your head, "I can try to help."

"No." You persist. A strong arm hooks under your stomach and you yelp as Booker hoists you from your chair. The paper in your hands flutters to the ground. The investigator keeps you tight in his grasp as he picks up the sheet and begins to read over it. A pang of nervousness washes through you as he reads further.

Suddenly, Booker twists his face and he squints. You stop struggling and go limp, waiting for the typical reaction.

“So, this is what’s been bothering you? Trying to write out sex?” The way he bluntly says it has you hang your head in shame. 

* * *

 

Ever since your little stunt at the Kashmir, you and Booker had developed a wonderful friendship that soon blossomed into probably one of the most interesting--albeit a little awkward--relationships you had ever been in. Most days you found yourself typing away your newest novel in the back room of his home office, away from the noise of the underwater utopia. Some days he was passed out on your living room floor, cradling a bottle of whiskey and a boxing stub--on those days you really regretted giving him a copy of your key. Others consisted of strolling through the gardens, hand in hand and kissing under the trees. Or even in the event where you both happened back upon the Kashmir, ending up in another dance.

But recently, you found something odd happening between the two of you. Every time you saw him, tense knots would form in your lower abdomen, an ache would dully radiate from your core, and you mind would reel with dark thoughts. Thoughts and dreams of how his skin would feel against yours, what his normally rough voice would sound like gasping your name, the sensation you had long near forgotten returning. You weren't quite sure how much longer you could hold off, especially when Booker always appeared so stoic about most things.

"Then what is it?" Your boyfriend persists handing back the paper, "It can't be too hard. Clothes off. Bodies on."

" _It's hard when I keep thinking about you,_ " A cough hitches in your throat, "B-But there's so much...just...ALRIGHT WELL WRITING IS HARD. AND WHAT DO YOU DO? PLAY THE GUITAR! THAT'S NOT HARD. YET _YOU_ COMPLAIN ABOUT THAT."

Booker scoffs and leans back, "You're blowing this out of proportion, but I will take it all back if you can play anything except hot cross buns on my guitar." You sneer and grab the instrument violently. You plop back down in your seat and pluck discordantly at the strings, hoping to play something that sounds remotely musical.

* * *

 

After ten minutes of hopeless attempting you feel a pair of hands over yours, guiding your fingers gently against the strings. You lean back against Booker's chest as he helps you stumble through "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

"Told you." He smirks and pecks your cheek.

"Yeah shut up." You grumble and pout before noticing something a little off. The investigator behind you, his breathing sounds slightly forced and labored, his muscles tense, and he shakily exhales like he's trying to control himself. That familiar tension in your core begins to tighten. Booker's hand tightens around the neck of the guitar and he pulls himself around you so that he's now in front.

"Watch." He positions his strong hands to the strings and begins strumming away through a piece you had heard over a thousand times during your relationship.

"Will the circle, be unbroken?" He begins. You sway side to side, your feet slowly shuffling to the chords as he picks up the pace to something slightly livelier. While the words remain the same, the tempo is quicker and more jazzy, allowing you to dance solely. You twirl and slide around your boyfriend, smiling and humming along as he sings in a voice that sets your insides aflame. Then that sweet smile you wear becomes a smirk as you saunter over to Booker.

He returns the gesture by placing his guitar down, and keeps singing as you join hands and swing dance around the office. The investigator twirls you out, then into his chest, his hand slides down to rest on your hip while the other stays intertwined in yours. A raw heat begins building up between the two of you. Every so often you would both brush up against each other, and a dull, longing ache would throb in your core. You hang your arms limply over Booker's shoulders and he does the same with his arms around your waist. He hums the rest of the song deeply, and you both slow to a simple sway.

"Well this is new." You chuckle, slightly nervous.

Booker leans forward and whispers, "Just follow me."

Your heart flutters as his worn lips brush against yours, rough stubble scraping against your skin. Your mind goes into overdrive at the sudden action. Sure you had kissed him before, but this time feels different. One of Booker's hands moves up and entwines itself in your (length) (colour) hair, pulling you closer. Hungry lips plant themselves on yours once more, and your gasp against him, allowing Booker to gain access to your mouth. His other hand slides over your rear and squeezes slightly, you squeal and press up closer to the investigator.

The way his hands expertly trail up your sides have you shuddering as he begins to unbutton your blouse. You bunch the fabric of his open vest in your hands and pull it down past his shoulders, then you nimbly take care of his own shirt, watching it part slightly. The two of you step back, breathless. You hear the crinkling of paper under your feet.

You curse and pick up the page, "I...We shouldn't be...I have to..." You wave the paper slightly, Booker nods understandingly.

"Sorry." He mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest, in fact he almost looks smug. You rush back into your office and shut the door behind you.

With a huff you slide the paper back into the typewriter and attempt to continue your novel. Inspiration slowly creeps back into your mind and your fingers pick up the pace, typing down everything. With a pause you read over what you had just written.

"Wait a second..." You stare at the crisp words, a strange familiarity in them. You had just gotten out of that scenario! Suddenly your fingers start to tremble and your muse leaves once more. With another soft curse you rise from your seat and begin to pace around your self-proclaimed second office. You pluck at the undone buttons on your blouse and huff agitatedly.

"I really need to get this done." You announce to yourself, "But..." a thought crosses, "No no...Then I'd feel like I was using him...But it's not like..." The knot in your core tightens and heat slowly spreads from it, "I don't think he minded..." You slowly crack open the door and peek out to the main office.

Booker has himself leaning back on the small couch, shirt still open, and feet propped up on the coffee table as he polishes his guitar. You open the door a little more and wince as it creaks obnoxiously. Your boyfriend looks up at you and smiles slightly with a wave in faux innocence.

" _Oh he knows what's up._ " You tighten your lips and huff, Booker must have seen you because he snickers softly and shakes his head as he returns to polishing his guitar.

You slump your shoulders a bit and smile to yourself, " _Oh well, occupational hazards._ "

* * *

 

You open the door all the way and attempt to confidently pace over to the investigator. The clacking of your low heels resound around the small room and bring Booker's attention back to you. He cocks a brow in confusion and purses his lips. You feel a smile creep across your lips as you push the guitar out of the way and sit on his lap. You twist the investigator's tie between your fingers and sigh softly.

"I just can't seem to get my muse going..." You pull the tie through your hands, drawing Booker closer and closer until his nose is touching yours, "Maybe I just need some...Inspiration."

Your hands trail over his shoulders and you softly press your lips to his. Booker happily complies and rests his hands on your hips. The two of you remain there in sweet bliss for a moment before you slowly lean into him, and push him back on the couch. You grin and slide your hands from his shoulders down to his forearms and trace small circles with your thumbs as you shift to a straddle. Your lips peck soft kisses down his jaw and to his collar before nibbling gently at the soft skin.

"When did'ja...hah...get so...bold?" Booker exhales shakily then gasps as you mark bruises against his flesh.

You stop for a moment to bring your (colour) gaze to his clear green one, "Guess you don't wanna help me then..." Your voice trails off, and you slowly begin to leave your spot.

"No! I uh...No. Please." He almost begs. Another smile cracks and you peck him on the lips.

"Thought so..." You giggle and slip your thumbs into his waistband, trailing and massaging long strokes across his hips. Booker gasps once more and slightly spasms under your touch. You return your lips to his now slightly discoloured neck and continue. You slowly grind your hips against Booker's and feel the mildly uncomfortably bulge under his pants and chuckle under your breath.

"(name)..." He moans and attempts to pull you closer, "Please..." but you distance yourself and listen to Booker whine slightly. This side of him is entirely new to you, not once had you seen Booker succumb to anything so quickly, but now he is putty in your hands.

You walk your fingers over his abdominals then lightly scratch your nails back down, feeling his muscles tremble and twitch at your touch. His hands dig into the cushions and he tries to hold back another gasp, but as your hands travel lower he is unable to contain it. You revel in the way he subtly squirms under you, attempting to cause some sort of needed friction, gasping and silently pleading.

His hands claw near helplessly at your sides and you decide to carry things further.

You rise from his hips and push off your own blouse, then wriggle out of your skirt, and then the undergarments. Booker sits up and looks ready to advance, but you press your heel to his chest and keep him at bay. With a light shove, Booker falls back into the cushions and you return to the spot on his lap, feeling the hardened bulge in his pants. The fire in your core is now an inferno as you shift agonizingly slow against Booker. He groans loudly and scrapes his fingers down your thighs in want.

"Hm? What is it? Do you need something?" You tease and shift again. You ruffle your fingers through your hair then trail them down your soft skin, knowing your boyfriend wanted to be in your stead at the moment. Your hand reaches your bare womanhood and begins gently massaging the heat . Low gasps emit from your throat and you hear Booker whine once more.

"This isn't fair..." He grumbles and attempts once more to reach for you, but this time you allow his hands to explore your skin, while you delve deeper under your own. Skillfully with your other hand you unfasten his slacks and pull them down along with his own undergarments. His stiff member stands at attention and you slide your fingers down its length, earning a loud moan from the man under you.

"Feel good?" You hum and stroke him again. Booker gasps out a "yes" and writhes. You lift yourself and guide yourself down, allowing him to completely fill you. A long drawn out moan escapes your lips as you adjust. The knot inside you tightens as you slowly rise and fall, holding onto his hips as he clutched yours. The waves of pleasure washed through you with every cave and buck as Booker gasps and moans under you. Suddenly, you slow down.

"Don't you stop..." He orders, and you stop completely, just to spite him.

"What? What was that?" You threaten to get up, but Booker keeps a vice grip and pulls you forward before planting a sloppy and desperate kiss on your lips.

"Please...don't stop." He whispers needingly and cups the small of your back. You rest your arms on either side of his head and kiss him back.

"Well since you asked so nicely." You gyrate your hips and tousle your fingers in his short brunet locks, pulling his lips against yours before melting into the kiss. You instinctively speed up, hips snapping harshly, pounding against your walls, sending the knot in your core tighter and tighter until it snaps and a force of ecstasy hits you as you release. A loud scream of pure euphoria resonates as Booker breathily exhales your name, desperately grabbing at your flesh. You completely remove yourself from the man as he releases a guttural moan and lets out his own tension. Can't take any risks right now.

You shakily stand and ghost a hand over your face, "Just the thing to get my muse back."

Your gaze shifts over to the panting Booker whom has now slumped over on the couch, his chest rising and falling dramatically. He looks up at you, "Glad to see...I was...of some...use..."

You smile and kiss his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips, "You were so much more than that, thank you...now go get cleaned up." You turn on a heel.

"And you get to making that deadline." Booker lightly slaps your rear , you squeak and pace back into your self-proclaimed office, inspiration blossoming within.

**Author's Note:**

> So...I am...out of practice.  
> I've never really written a Dom!Reader before.  
> So uh...Yeah.  
> How did you like it?  
> Any suggestions?  
> ((oh god Booker is soooo OOC))


End file.
